


Black Fire and Violet Flowers

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Series: Signs of Affection Prompts [7]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Falling In Love, Fluff, Guess who's who, Hades and Persephone AU, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: The King of the Dead is lonely and sullen. That is, until a strange god wanders into his realm.Based on "reunion kiss" request.





	Black Fire and Violet Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> A fic while I'm updating another fic? What?! Well, that fic is all written and just needs editing. So I wrote this in between doing that. And honestly, I just really wanted to write a Persephone/Hades AU. It's one of my fave myths. The earlier versions though, without all the kidnapping and trickery. I don't see this as "sanitizing it" like some people say tbh cause A) Greek mythology is very fluid and B) The myths we consider "standard" are really just the much later versions that were written down by sexist men. Soooo imma go with the one that gives Persephone agency and choice in her life, k? Anywho, feminist Greek myth rant over, here's the fic! :)

O gather round, lovers of stories. Listen as the muse Erato flows from these pages. Listen to the story of the King of The Dead and The Lord of Spring.

Many eons ago, after the Titans fell from their thrones, a young god was given a land to rule over. It was the Underworld, where all mortal souls find themselves when their time on Earth ends. The Underworld was misty, dark, untouched by the sun above. And the young god matched his domain. Legends say he had hair as dark as night and eyes like storm clouds. He wore a cloak made of black fire that hid his face and body from all. He has many names, some shrouded in mystery, but there is one we all know. A simple name: Baz.

Baz was a sullen but dutiful lord. He spent his days on a throne of ebony, maintaining his kingdom of wandering souls, keeping them confined, making sure those who were proclaimed damned by the demanding king of the gods were dealt with so. But his only company were the spirits, who moaned and groaned ceaselessly. They did not make for conversation. So Baz was alone, spending his days doing work, reading when his time was free, heart growing as cold as the air around him.

Some said he was more dead than the souls around him.

But one fateful day, Baz was checking the edges of his kingdom for faults in it’s enormous walls. But suddenly, his cavern lit up with golden light. Baz hissed at the unfamiliar view that burned his eyes. He could only squint at first, and saw a faint silhouette in front of him.

“Who are you?” The King hissed.

“Where is this?” The silhouette answered a question with a question. And Baz was not amused.

“It is the Underworld, the realm of the dead. Where else?”

“Oh,” the voice chirped. “I wondered where the noises were coming from.”

Baz’s eyes adjusted. The light dimmed into a soft glow. And there stood before him was a boy made of gold. Tawny skin, bronze curls, everything bright in contrast to the darkness of his realm. Spackles of strange spots covered his rosy cheeks. His chiton was made of small green leaves and blooming multi coloured flowers. Blue eyes the colour of the sky blinked back at him. Baz had never seen someone like him. He had never seen someone so _alive._

“Who are you?” Baz asked once more, voice softened

“My name is Simon,” the golden boy said. “Son of David, god of earth and sky, and Lucy, goddess of nature. I was wandering through a meadow when I entered a cave. I heard the groans of pain and wished to know if someone needed help. I did not know it would lead to the Underworld."

Baz slinked back into his cloak. “You may leave if you wish,” he muttered.

To the King’s surprise, the Lord just shook his head. “No,” he said simply. “I wish to see what is here. May I?”

The King could only stare in true confusion for a moment. No one ever wished to stay, even the spirits housed here. They’d all flood out the gates and back to the world of the living if they could. But Simon’s mannerisms showed no deceit. He was genuine, and he was kind.

“If...you wish,” Baz said cautiously.

“I do,” Simon replied, and he was off.

Simon skipped into the depths of the dead like it was a daisy field, and all Baz could do was trail behind him. With every step Simon’s bare feet took, small flowers bloomed in the his wake. They pushed between the rocks, finding life even in the dark. It was the first time anything had ever grown from the barren soil. Baz was confused by the green things, avoiding them like an ill man’s cough. But he followed. For David already despised Baz's family, and he wished not to invoke any more of his wrath by letting his son perish in his realm.

“This place is quite cold,” Simon commented as he touched the rock walls, small vines crawling out of the cracks behind him.

“It is the realm of the dead,” Baz said. “There is no need for warmth.”

“Do the dead not deserve some warmth at the end of their lives?” The Lord asked. It was a question so simple, yet Baz had never once thought about it.

To Baz’s utter shock, Simon walked down the winding stony path, down towards the Fields of Asphodel, without a hint of fear. The few who had ever come here shuddered at the spirits. Simon was not like others though. With no hesitation, he walked through the see of moaning ghosts. Baz pulled his cloak closer around him. The spirits recoiled from his dark flames.

“Why do you not let them touch you?” Simon asked. His questions were endless. They were as annoying as they were intriguing.

“They are...not pleasant,” Baz replied. For it was easier to say that than to admit he had never once thought to walk among them. And he knew not what to do.

“They are your subjects. You should not be afraid.”

Baz sneered. “I am not afraid.”

“Then do not shy away.” Simon reached out his strong arm. The spirits gathered around his warmth.They clambered to touch his glowing skin, for but a taste of the sun they once knew. Baz was amazed and horrified. So many feared the dead. Simon treated them like they were old friends.

“Why are there so souls many here?” The Lord asked simply. “They seem a bit cramped.”

“They have nowhere else to go,” Baz replied.

“Really? There is nowhere else they could stay?”

Baz twisted his mouth, for he knew he was only telling half truths. And if this were anyone else, he would have left it at that. But Simon was so genuine, so trusting. There seemed to not be a truly deceitful bone in his beautiful body. And Baz, no matter what David proclaimed, was not a monster. He would not hurt a person who only showed kindness.

“Come with me,” Baz said with a flick of his head.

The King lead the Lord through the sea of souls to the opposite cliff. Together they ascended to its peak. A pair of dark wooden doors were set in the jagged rock. They were smooth and handless. Baz pushed them open with ease.

Simon gasped at the sight. It was a large field of bright green grass. Trees with twisting vines were sparsely interspersed in the area. Everything was bathed in yellow sunlight. Baz instinctively sneered at it. He did not come here often, for he did not like the light. It always revealed too much.

“What is this?” Simon asked with utter awe.

“It is the Elysian Fields,” Baz replied. “It is where souls worthy of the gods’ honour are supposed to go. But...there is no true way to determine who is worthy. Many earn one god’s praise while angering another. So these Fields remain empty.”

Simon frowned, and it made something in Baz twist painfully. He had never felt like this before. He’d never felt sad because someone else was. “Poor souls,” the Lord sighed. “If they are good, they should come here.”

“They would if I could figure out how to judge them fairly. I am a god, I could never be impartial.”

Simon’s face looked forlorn for another moment, but it quickly softened once more. He kneeled down and touched his hands to the bright grass. Purple flowers bloomed to the surface. Their colour was rich and deep, with a little touch of darkness. Simon plucked one easily, and held it out towards Baz.

“Here,” he said sweetly.

“Why did you do that?” Baz asked.

“There are no flowers here. Everywhere could use flowers. As well as everyone.” He shoved the flower more insistently towards him. With great caution, Baz reached out from his cloak and took the single bloom. He spun the small stem between his long fingers for a moment. His arm pulled back under the black fire, but he tucked the flower into his hidden chiton belt.

“Is there anywhere else just as beautiful down here?” Simon asked, looking around the Fields.

Baz knew of only one other place that could match the Elysian Fields in the Underworld. It was somewhere he frequented even less than than the Fields. But Simon would like it. So he started walking, and the Lord of Spring followed.

They walked out of the Fields, along cliffs over the sea of souls, and finally reached their destination. Together, they entered The Cavern of Riches. Baz could hear Simon gasp behind him. It was gasp worthy for many. The Cavern was a glittering marvel of jewels. Deep green, rich crimson, shining blue, and every other colour imaginable all decorated it’s walls. Simon traced the gems and marvelled at the many shaded lights they made. They shone brighter with Simon’s glow. Baz had not entered this place in eons. He saw no need for pretty things in his own dreary existence.

“You have so many jewels,” The Lord gasped.

“They grow here,” Baz muttered. “All the wealth the mortals desire lies in this cavern, but it is useless to them when they are dead. It is some form of final mocking, I suppose.”

“You did not create it?” His question was reasonable but simple, but Baz still scoffed.

“No. I was given my kingdom as it was made. I merely maintain it.”

“That is sad,” Simon sighed. “Everyone should be able to choose their home.”

Baz heard something helpless in the Lord’s tone. His glow dimmed for a moment. But only a moment, then he became bright again. Baz wondered what could make such a gorgeous, shining light blink out like that. Even if only for a moment.

Simon spent a few more minutes looking at the cave and all it’s majesty. But soon he walked out, wandering once more with the King following behind. The Lord stopped at the mouth of the River of Leith, the flowing water of forgetfulness. He dipped his golden legs in the cold stream. Baz would have been worried if gods were not immune to river’s effects. He stood behind as Simon kicked the water lazily.

“How did you truly come to be here?” Baz asked quietly.

Simon shrugged all the way up to his ears, then let his shoulders slump down. “I found the cave, I heard the groans, I wanted to help,” Simon replied.

“I know half truths well, and that certainly is one.”

The Lord did not answer. But he kicked the water violently, spraying it in a chaotic blue arc. Baz’s feelings twisted again. Slowly, he sat close to Simon, but still too far away to be considered comforting. For the King of The Dead was frightened for the first time in his long life, and to think it was of what a beautiful man would say to him.

“You do not have to tell me,” Baz said. “I am just confused. No one ever wants to comes down here, let alone stay. David tells everyone it is an awful place. But you are...different.”

Simon let his head loll back, blue eyes meeting Baz’s grey. He looked forlorn again. Baz realised he was forlorn. But he did not understand how such a bright creature could be sad. “It is not simple,” Simon whispered.

His head rolled back, his body pulling in on itself. Baz’s chest- no, his _heart_ ached. He did not wish to see the bright boy so sad. He did not wish Simon to be alone. Slowly once again, Baz moved toward the Lord of Spring. As he did, he pushed off his hood, so he sat beside Simon with his face showing.

“I would not mind hearing it,” Baz whispered as well, fearing a raised voice would make Simon run.

The Lord lifted his head, eyes going wide for a second a Baz’s bare visage. Their gazes met. And soon, Simon sighed and nodded.

“I am the son of two great gods,” he said quietly. “My father is always watching over me from above and my mother from the ground. He commands me to perform tasks for him across the land, and she worries constantly for my well being. I love them both dearly, but sometimes their twin gazes are too much to bare. Humans believe I am the god of unbridled freedom. But I am surely not. I am duty bound and smothered. So when I saw the cave, all I hoped to do was hide for a short while. But then I heard cries and moans of the souls. I followed the sound only wanting to help a person I thought was hurt. The path kept going, and I ended up here, where I saw you. Then-”

“Yes, yes,” Baz sighed. “I was there for that part.”

Simon chuckled, and Baz could not help but laugh as well.  He could not remember the last time he laughed.

“My father,” Simon sighed, “he also told me this place was frightening, but I wanted to see for myself. I now see that he was surely wrong. The spirits are not scary, they only need care.” Baz felt his pride soar, but it fell as Simon slumped forward again. “But I suppose I must go back to the surface now. Thank you for letting me see your kingdom, Baz.”

Simon began to stand, and Baz's pulse doubled. He was a selfish, greedy creature by nature, for he was a god of riches as well the dead. And he did not want to let Simon go. Not yet at least.

“Well,” the King said quickly, pushing it past his lips before he got scared. “I would not mind if you stayed a bit longer...”

Simon froze. His whole golden body went rigid like the human’s statues of the gods. Baz slowly stood as well. They were face to face. Though Baz stood a half a head taller.

“Really?” Simon breathed out cautiously.

Baz nodded. “You said you wished to help who was hurt. I shall accept your help with the souls, if you would be so pleased to offer it. You do not have to if you do not want to though.”

Baz did not want to be Simon's father. He wanted to give him choice. It was a flimsy excuse, but it was less pathetic than Baz’s desperation to not let him leave. And thankfully, Simon nodded. “Yes, yes, I would be happy to help.”

Simon's voice trailed off strangely, like he was going to say something more but stopped himself. He hoped he meant to say _“and I want to stay with you.”_ But Baz did not question, for he did not wish to scare him away. So all he did was walk back towards his throne area, with Simon following behind.

“Come then,” Baz said, “there is much work to do.”

* * *

 

And so Simon stayed. He slept in Baz’s room, which was merely a cave harbouring meager possessions and a bed. Baz did not tell Simon it was the only bed, that he had sacrificed his own resting place for Simon’s comfort. It would be too difficult to say, for Baz could not give a rational explanation for it.

During the day, Simon became a constant companion at Baz's side. The souls rarely saw the two of them apart. He was a nice presence to have while Baz performed his duties. And when his time was free, they wandered the realm together, the fields, the rivers, everything. Simon told Baz stories of his adventures across the world performing tasks for his father. He used few words but many expressions and big gestures. It amused Baz greatly, and he started smiling more than he had in centuries.

Simon was just finishing his latest tale while they sat at Baz’s long, ebony dining table near his cave home. He reached towards a bowl of pomegranates, but Baz slapped his hand away. The Lord looked at the King with true confusion.

“Do you not know?” Baz asked horrified.

“Know what?” Simon replied, his voice simple and eyes wide.

“If you eat food in the Underworld, you will be trapped here.”

“But I like it here,” Simon said with a frown.

“But do you wish to be trapped for eternity?”

Simon looked at him for a few more moments, then pulled his hand away. Baz knew he would. For as much as Simon seemed to like his kingdom, no one would ever desire to be trapped here. Baz knew that far too well. He would not wish his fate on anyone, least of all Simon.

Baz still kept up the facade of needing Simon's help, because he did not wish to seem pathetic. They sat together and went over ideas. Simon told him of the human ritual of trials, where wise, objective people judged if others were innocent or guilty of a crime. It was a brilliant idea. However:

“Who will judge?” Baz asked. “I cannot do it. I have not the time, nor am I impartial.”

“Souls of mortals who were wise and strong in life.” Simon suggested with ease. “They do not know the god’s motives and will judge fairly. Do you know of any?”

“No. I do not speak with the shades.”

Simon’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Then I may know of some.”

It turned out that Simon had met many great people in his immortal life and travels. He had met Agatha, the late Queen of Athens, who had fairly ruled the great land without a king her entire life. He knew Nicodemus, King of Macedonia, a powerful demigod who fought many wars and did so with honour. And finally, he spoke of Ebb, Queen of Crete and Nicodemus’ sister, who was even more powerful than her twin but incredibly kind. Simon brought them out from the sea of spirits, and they were all elated to see him once more.

“Simon!” Ebb yelled with joy, wrapped her incorporeal arms around him as best she could.

“Hello, Ebb,” he said with a giggle. “It is good to see you again.”

“We never thought we would,” Nicodemus added in, placing a kind hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked. “This is far from your realm.”

Simon gestured behind him, to where The King who stood a distance away. “I have been helping Baz.”

Agatha raise a curious brow. “Oh? The King of the Underworld has finally accepted assistance?”

Baz glared from under his hood, while Simon simply nodded. “Yes, and we have a task for all three of you.”

A great structure was erected for the rulers. They towered over the many spirits on thrones of diamond and obsidian. And after a soul had drank from the River of Leith and forgotten their life, they went to be judged. The Three Wise Ones, as they have come to be called, determined whether the person had lived an honourable life. If so, they would be born again into a new life. And they would at least three times if they were judged worthy after every death. Eventually, the good souls would be allowed to rest in the Elysian Fields. A paradise no longer left to be empty.

“Will this help them?” Simon asked as he sat on a cliff’s edge with Baz.

Baz turned his head slowly. Simon looked at him with wide eyes, and he knew the real question he wished to ask. Baz thought of how his realm would look without Simon’s light. And he decided it was not the worse thing in the world to seem pathetic.

“Yes,” Baz replied quietly. “But you may stay longer if you please.”

A grin threatened to split Simon’s face in two. “I do.”

* * *

 

And so Simon stayed even longer. He and Baz kept wandering the kingdom together constantly. Simon told even more of his stories, happy for the audience, and Baz let himself laugh louder. Baz introduced Simon to Cerberus, the fearsome three headed guard god of the Underworld. Simon loved the animal immediately, scratching under his many chins and petting his ears. Cerberus licked his tawny face with three big tongues.

“Who would ever be afraid of such a wonderful creature?” Simon cooed.

“Many are afraid of what they do not know,” Baz answered.

“Is that why mortals and gods are afraid of you and I am not?” Simon’s question were always so simple but carried so much. Baz’s heart beat faster, the same strange phenomenon he’d been experiencing since shortly after Simon’s arrival in his world.

“Yes,” Baz said. “I suppose so.”

Baz showed Simon his library, a small section filled with scrolls that branched off of his cave. They were piled so high they reached the ceiling. Many mortals were buried with them and ended up taking them down to the Underworld. Baz tended to keep the ones he found interesting.

"Why do you have so many?" Simon asked as he looked through the stack.

“My mother, the goddess of knowledge, she loves stories,” Baz explained. “She would read to me when I was younger. Before I was put here. I sometimes wonder if she still reads and thinks of me.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Many ages ago. I cannot leave here, and she cannot come to me by order of David. He is still angry that she initially took the Titan’s side over his in the war. She has already apologized too many times but he will not listen. So, she can not visit me."

Simon frowned, for he always felt the sadness of others with as much intensity as they did. “I am sorry. I wish she could be here with you.”

Baz did not react. He did not want to seem as weak as he felt. But when Simon’s hand lightly brushed his cloaked, he let out a breath. And he let himself not be strong for once.

“I wish she were here as well,” he whispered.

Simon leaned his entire body against Baz. He did not flinch from his flaming cloak. For Simon was already the sun, and fire did not frighten him.

“I am not good with words,” Simon said. “I do not think I would read your stories well. But maybe you would...like to read to me?”

Baz turned his head slowly. Simon’s soft face was not deceitful. Not even the sign of a half truth was shown.

“You would not mind?” Baz asked.

Simon grinned. “I have told you my tales. I would like to hear some of yours.”

Baz smiled back.

In Baz’s spare time, the pair sat together as Baz read from his scrolls. Simon would lounge on Baz’s bed, on the Elysian Fields, or in the Cavern of Riches as he listened to the words. They were not frantic and energetic like his own tales. But much more paced, a slower build up to the end. Simon seemed to enjoy them, so Baz kept reading. He liked the way Simon listened. He gasped at tension, cheered at triumphs, laughed at comedy, and frowned at misfortunes. Baz enjoyed having such an engaged listener. He enjoyed everything about Simon.

One night, as Baz finished what he was reading, Simon was falling asleep on the grassy land of the Fields. Baz stopped his tale, and carefully put the scroll under his cloak. With even more care, he picked up Simon in his arms. The Lord of Spring curled against him in sleep like an infant dog. Baz’s arms shook nervously until he placed Simon upon his single bed. The god stretched out on the soft furs. He smiled as he dreamed. And Baz wondered if his heart had ever beat so fast.

Baz curled up on the pile of rocks that he had been using as his sleeping place. He always woke up before Simon could see him. But when he woke the next day, Simon stood over him with utter shock in his eyes.

“Is this where you have been sleeping?” he asked horrified.

Baz pulled further into his cloak. “Yes,” he replied.

Simon frowned angrily. But not at Baz, per se. He seemed to be more angry at the situation, glaring at the rocks and not the god.

“This will not do,” Simon said resolutely. “You need a house.”

“A house? You mean, a structure to live in?” Baz remembered hearing of those in Simon’s stories and reading of them in his own.

“Yes. Would that be nice to have?”

Baz was still unsure, but it sounded intriguing. “Yes, I believe it would.”

Simon told Baz what they needed to do. They chose the cliff with Baz’s throne for his home. Baz used his power to raise large blocks of black obsidian from the ground. Simon, feet as light as the wind, jumped up and ripped large parts away with incredible strength. It was crude but effective form of initial carving. Then he helped Baz shape everything how he pleased. The spires were tall, the entrance two large stone doors, all of it large and intimidating.

But when they moved inside, Baz made smaller rooms, ones that were cozy and comfortable. There were many fireplaces that let out a dim glow and warmth equal to Simon’s. Furniture was draped in comfortable furs. An entire room was dedicated to his scrolls. Baz’s bed chamber itself was the opposite of his almost empty cave, now with decoration and warm brown walls. It was a somewhat daunting task, even for a god. But Baz did it. For he wanted a home, a place he made and chose instead of being forced upon him.

“So shall I stay in the cave?” Simon asked when it was all done, tone joking but still nervous.

“No,” Baz said firmly, leading him to the room just beside his own. He pushed open the doors to reveal a large but cozy area. Small green gems from the Cavern of Riches decorated the walls. Leaves and flowers were carved into the wood of his bed. When Simon stepped in, his light made the room sparkle. He giggled with disbelief.

Baz stayed by the door, drumming his fingers nervously. “Is it satisfactory?”

Simon whipped around so Baz could see his smile. It was as bright and beautiful as he was. “It is wonderful, Baz. Thank you.”

Baz was about to say _“you are most welcome”_ , but Simon ran into him before he could. His strong arms wrapped around Baz fiercely. Baz stood still for far too long. He did not know how to react to such affection he had not been shown in ages.

“Really, Baz,” Simon whispered, “thank you. I have always been forced to wander from place to place. I...I have never had somewhere made for me either.”

Baz sucked in a breath. He still could not believe that someone so bright was also so broken. Just as broken as him. He carefully put his arms around the Lord of Spring in return. His warmth prickled Baz’s cool skin. But he liked it, and he adored Simon more than anything ever before.

* * *

 

Baz soon lost track of how long Simon had been in his realm. He had become as much a part of the Underworld as the souls or the jewels. Baz could not imagine it without him. He did as he pleased, going where he felt he most wanted to be. And Baz always took time from his godly duties to be with him, reading to him or listening to his oral tales.

Together they sat in the Elysian Fields. Baz read as Simon twisted the last flower into his many coloured new crown. Simon paused his story telling to ask for some assistance. He dipped his head so Baz could place headdress on him. The smile Simon had lit up everything around him. Baz only wished to keep him here.

But the Fates had never been kind to him.

A figure appeared in lush green field. Baz stood to attention immediately. Simon followed, and then ran towards the person. Baz had no choice but to chase after the Lord of Spring and hope he did not become injured.

The figure bolted towards them to meet the pair halfway. Baz recognized her immediately. It was Penelope, the messenger goddess, wearing her usual knee high winged sandals and matching winged helmet. Baz had not seen her in ages, for though she brought souls to his realm, she did not enjoy his company and avoided him at all cost. The feeling was mutual.

“Penny?” Simon said with awe.

“Simon!” She yelled, immediately capturing him in a fierce hug. Simon hugged her back. But soon, her dark gaze moved to Baz, and she glared fiercely.

“You,” she growled, pushing past Simon to better jab her caduceus in Baz’s face. “How dare you!? Do you believe just because you are the King of the Dead you can capture another god and hold him prisoner? Arrogant bastard!”

Baz’s eyes went wide from behind his cloak. He leaned over her, unafraid and furious. “Captured?! I have done no such thing!”

“Liar!”

“No, Penny,” Simon said, trying to pull down her sceptre arm. “He is telling the truth. I wandered down her and chose to stay. Baz has been nothing but kind to me, considering I invaded his kingdom without invitation.”

The messenger goddess’ eyes went incredibly wide. She lowered her arm. “But...David said he saw you get carried off from a meadow. No one knew who it was. Only I thought to seek you out in the Underworld after so long.”

Simon looked very surprised. “So long? How long have I been away?”

“Months, Simon. You have been missing for half a year. And you must return to the surface right now.”

Baz clenched his fist under his cloak. Simon’s mouth fell open. “What?” Simon asked dumbfounded. “Why?”

Penny looked forlorn. “Because your mother has been in despair since you vanished. Her sorrow has made all that is green die. Your father is furious, and his anger has made the sky go cold. The mortals cannot eat, find warmth, or survive. They shall not live much longer like this. You have to come back so they will lift this frost.”

Simon’s face immediately fell. Baz could tell that he was horrified that he had caused such suffering. He was so kind, so giving, so heroic. He would never want to hurt anyone. But he had, by doing as he pleased and staying with Baz.

“You must leave, Simon,” Baz said gravely, but could not hide a waver in his voice.

Simon looked over Penny’s shoulder at him. His expression was broken, desperate, wishing he could refute Baz’s words. But they both knew it was true. Their dream together must end.

“Allow me one more hour,” Simon said quietly. “Tell my father and mother you will retrieve me in one hour’s time.”

Penelope almost protested, mouth open and ready to argue. But Simon’s gaze was fire incarnate. He would not give any ground in this.

“One hour,” the goddess said before vanishing.

And so Simon and Baz were left alone together, as they had been for half a year. Simon slowly approached him. His eyes were round with sorrow. Baz tried to school his expression, but he knew Simon could see through him.

“I suppose this will be goodbye.” Baz tried to keep his voice neutral still. But his composure had already cracked and was still breaking with every passing second.

“Not yet,” Simon whispered. He stepped forward and reached behind Baz’s head, pulling down his hood. Baz did not protest. “We have one hour. So...shall we take the long path home first?”

Baz, despite his heart tearing in two, felt his pulse fly at the word ‘home’. That Simon considered the palace home. So Baz reached out of his cloak to offer his hand. And Simon took it without a second thought.

Together, they walked slowly across the gorgeous Elysian Fields, through the glittering Cavern of Riches, past Cerberus who licked Simon’s face, to the cliffs overlooking the Fields of Asphodel, finally ending at the palace. At the home they had created together.

Simon turned to Baz and reached into his cloak to take his other hand. Baz felt the warmth dance across his cold arms like rays of sunlight on his skin. Simon looked as sorrowful as the day he first came here. Baz wanted to hold him tight and never let go.

“Now we must say goodbye” Simon said quietly.

“I know,” Baz replied, voice just as soft.

“Will you forget me?”

Baz tugged him closer. “No, absolutely not. Will you forget me?”

Simon ran his thumb over Baz’s thin wrist. “No. Never ever.”

They stared, and they did not let go. Baz tried his best to commit Simon’s face to memory. Every freckle, every mole, every smile line and sweep of curls. He knew that when he was most miserable and lonely, when he would almost become the bitter man he was again, he would need to remember this face.

Simon stepped even closer, the flames of Baz’s cloak licking at his glowing skin. “I am glad I walked through that cave,” he said with utter conviction.

“As am I,” Baz replied instantly.

Carefully, cautiously, Simon reached up between them. Baz’s breath held, and then it hitched when Simon touched the cool iron of his cloak’s clasp. When the King did pull away or slap down his hand, Simon undid the hook. The dark flames pooled at his feet. Baz was only left in his simple black chiton and sandals. It had been too long since he had been without his ever present flaming cape. But he found did not mind with Simon. The Lord of Spring had already seen many parts of him. He was content with showing one more.

Simon warm hands trailed up Baz’s bare arms. Shakily, Baz placed his cool touch on Simon’s leaf covered waist. The Lord sighed, leaning forward so his ear was right over Baz’s heartbeat.

“I do not want to go,” he choked out.

Baz’s heart shattered into a hundred shards. He held Simon tighter, not caring how it appeared. He did not care. He just wanted to hold his Lord as close as he could.

“I wish you did not have to,” Baz replied.

Simon’s arms wrapped around Baz’s thin neck. He stood on his toes to better bury his face in Baz’s shoulder. Baz spread his hand against Simon’s strong back. He inhaled against his curls. Simon smelled like fresh flowers and sweet fruit. Like everything wonderful and beautiful in the world.

The men slowly pulled back, but not apart. Baz’s gaze drifted down to Simon’s slightly open mouth. His lips were the colour of the scarlet roses he had made grow in the Underworld. Baz had read of the human ritual of kissing, the act of two people who cared for one another putting their mouths together. He never understood the reason or urge for such a strange practice. Until now.

“Simon,” he whispered.

And Simon, Lord of Spring, god of growing, the shining sun in Baz’s dreary existence, kissed him.

His warmth did not tingle across Baz. Rather it exploded in him. It was like biting down on a fruit, letting the juices burst in your mouth and the sweetness coat your tongue. Baz’s whole being felt filled with light, alive and ecstatic. Simon kissed him with force, pressing their mouths together as hard as he could. Baz tried to match him but had no knowledge of what to do. He simply followed where Simon went. Tilted his head similar to how he did, mimicked the way his lips moved, held him so tight against him that he could feel every lean muscle in his golden body. He never wanted the moment to end.

But the Fates were never kind.

Simon pulled away. His blue eyes were glassy and his lips were swollen and even more red. Baz assumed he was in a similar state. They gazed at each other for many moments, committing their expressions to memory. But bit by bit, their arms had to fall from each other, because their time was running out. Simon lifted his flower crown from his head and offered it with outstretched hand.

“Here,” Simon said. “To remember me.”

Baz did not hesitate to take it. The petals were soft to the touch, like Simon was. Baz reached towards his belt and lifted a singular violet. The everlasting flower was still as beautiful as when Simon gave it to him. He placed the bloom behind Simon’s ear, taking a lingering moment to trace his jaw. Simon's blue eyes quivered.

“To remember me,” Baz said. “I was more lost than the souls here before you came. I can never thank you enough for that, Simon.”

Simon surged forward and kissed him once more. Baz felt he would surely melt like a wax candle. Simon pulled back, but kept their foreheads together. “You gave me so much,” he whispered. “A true home, freedom, happiness. Thank you.”

For once in his eternal life, Baz had no words. He wished to say three ones in particular, ones he read in the great love songs of the mortals. But they stayed stuck in his depression choked throat. All he could do was watch silently as Simon stepped back, and Penelope appeared, and the Lord of Spring waved before he vanished in a shower of light.

When he was gone, Baz struggled not to collapse immediately. Instead, he put his cloak back on, walked back towards his palace with his head held high, and entered his room silently. It was only when the door was closed that he let himself fall apart. He sat on the obsidian floor, curled within his fire and fiddling with Simon's crown under it. He did not cry, for the King of the Dead was still too proud to let tears fall. But he sat, and he did not move for a long time.

* * *

 

Baz did not neglect his duties. He still made sure the realm was secure, watched over the souls, kept them from the Cavern of Riches. And soon the days slid back together into endless duty and darkness. Baz occasionally felt the urge to become cold again, to abandon any sense of joy. But when he did, he simply touched the crown of flowers he always kept attached to his belt, and resisted temptation once more.

He was sitting on his throne, observing the souls and making sure they were calm, when the sound of pitter pattering steps resonated across the stone. Baz immediately stood. He was prepared to fight any intruder. His hands were already smoking with fire.

“Who goes there?” He announced.

“I have not been gone too long,” an all too familiar voice chirped. “Have you forgotten me already?”

Baz’s hands lowered immediately. His jaw feel to the ground. The pitter patter became closer, until a dim glow shone in front of him. The Lord of Spring was still as bright and alive looking as ever. And his grin was the most shining part of him all.

“Simon?” Baz whispered in disbelief.

“Hello, my darling,” he replied. “I have returned.”

Baz practically ran forward, immediately encircling Simon in his arms. Simon laughed with utter joy and hugged him back. They held each other so close that nothing could get in between them. Simon angled his head so their lips met with force. He was just as soft and warm as Baz remembered. Kissing Simon was a tidal wave of warmth. It was a sensation of falling and rising up all at once. It felt like coming awake after a long dark slumber. Baz only pulled off his mouth when he was sure it was not a dream.

“How are you here?” he asked.

Simon’s grin was playful, more like a god of mischief than spring. “When I returned to the land above, my father and mother were waiting. Father was angry but mother was overjoyed. I was not though. I love my parents and my land, but I...I already missed you so much it ached. Suddenly, Penelope asked me if I had eaten anything in the Underworld. I did not understand at first. But her face told me she had seen my sorrow, and her clever mind had found a compromise.  I answered yes. Father was so angry and mother was so sad, but I promised them it was just six pomegranate seeds. So I would only spend six months of the year with you and the other six above with them.”

Baz’s brow pulled together, for he was even more confused than before. “But...you did not eat anything here.”

The Lord grinned wider. He loosened himself from Baz’s embrace and led him by hand towards the obsidian palace. Weaving through rooms, he ended in the dining area. Quick as the wind, Simon scooped up a pomegranate, ripped it apart, and tossed six seeds in his mouth. He was still grinning as he gazed up at Baz.

“Now I have,” he said. “And now I shall stay.”

Baz was once more at a loss for words. Words seemed insufficient for the joy in his heart. So he took Simon into his arms with one swoop. Simon shrieked and giggled, warm nose pushing Baz’s cold neck. Baz carried his love through their home. With a sweep of his powerful hand, their two rooms melded together. Walls joining, decorations mixing, two beds for a single person becoming one made for both.

Simon smiled into Baz’s skin. “Take me to bed?”

“As you wish,” Baz replied immediately.

He gently placed Simon on the furs. Simon reached up and undid Baz's cloak without hesitation. Baz let it fall, then leaned down to capture Simon’s warm mouth with his. They fell onto the furs together, shedding clothes like the trees shed leaves in autumn. They stayed in their bed until Baz’s cool skin felt truly warm.

Later, they rested, bare bodies still tangled under the soft furs. Baz watched as the low torchlight danced across Simon’s tawny skin and bronze curls. It astounded him that this man, a being of life, a piece of the sun, would willingly bring his light to his world. But he was here now. And for half the year he would for eternity on.

Baz held Simon closer. He leaned towards to his ear, and said the words he’d express through actions too many times, that were already obvious, but he never managed to say out loud.

“I love you.”

Simon pressed his face into Baz’s cool chest. His curls tickled his chin. He put one warm hand over his heart.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

And so the world became as it is now. Six months of the year, it is warm. The crops flourish and flowers bloom. But once the final harvest is done, aumtn and winter begin. For Lucy is sorrowful over her son’s impending departure, and nature shrivels and dies with her grief. Because David is angry over his son's choice in marriage, and the sky becomes dark and cold with his rage.

Lucy, unlike David, who prefers to brew in fury on his mountain, always hugs and kisses Simon goodbye. Wearing a crown of violets and dressed in a dark green chiton, he tells her that he loves her, that will see her again soon, and that he will be alright. She still watches with tears in her eyes as Penelope takes his hand and they disappear in light.

But she does not see Simon as he returns to the Underworld. How he smiles at the large obsidian palace on the cliff. How he runs towards the figure in an open black fire cloak. How Baz holds Simon close and kisses him like his eternal life depends on their lips being together.

“Welcome home, my love,” Baz always says.

“Thank you, my darling,” Simon always replies.

They walk to a pair of twin thrones overlooking the Fields of Asphodel, one made of ebony and the other of iron. The couple sit together above their kingdom, hand in hand. And if a spirit is lucky, they may see the small smile playing on Baz's usually sullen lips, as well as the less subtle grin spread across Simon's. For husband and husband are reunited once more.

The King of the Dead and Lord of Spring are in love, and they are happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Crete has a well known wild goat population. Perfect for Ebb :D And I know many parts of this are different than original Greek myth, but I wanted to adapt it more to Carry On than make Carry On adapt to Greek myth. So no, the goddess of knowledge didn't initially take the Titans' side in the war, her son is not the trapped king of the underworld, and the god of spring isn't sent around on missions by his father. David just needs a reason to hate Natasha, Baz needs to be lonely and depressed, and Simon needs to be the overworked tired hero. Also tried to involve both Lucy and David in the myth of spring cause they both have a roll here with Simon. That is my mini explanation because I feel the need to explain myself all the time lol.
> 
> So I tried to incorporate some of grand poetic nature of Greek myth but that is a difficult style to mimic. Only successful case I've personally seen is Madeline Miller's books. But also credit where credit is due: this fic was heavily based on the version of the Hades and Persephone myth seen in George O'Conner's "Olympians" graphic novel series, specifically "Volume 4: Hades, Lord of The Dead". Olympians has some of the best myth re-tellings I've ever read. And I've read a lot lol. Highly recommend them. Though I also used one of the version of the myth I've heard where Persephone goes into the Underworld because she wants to help the spirits, cause that's something Simon The Hero would do.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that. Requests are still open on my blog. If any of you aren't already, feel free to check out my ongoing fic, "Watford Cove". It updated yesterday and will every few days. Thanks for reading :D


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